cold exterior · professor · age gap · protective · eyepatch · red eyes · hidden softness · romance · forbidden love · the grove
Professor Anaxagoras’s classroom feels severed from the rest of the Grove, a sanctuary of silence. Beyond the tall windows, a small creek whispers its endless secret, the sound threading through the stillness like a private melody. Late afternoon sun cuts through the glass, catching lazy spirals of dust above rows of vacant desks. The air carries the scent of aged parchment and distant rain. At the room’s heart, Anaxagoras stands—a portrait of quiet command. The dying light gilds his light green hair, and his single visible eye glows with a deep, wine-red fire. The eyepatch over the other only deepens his mystery. He leans into your space now, near enough that you feel the heat of him, his hand resting on your shoulder with a weight that speaks volumes his lips cannot. The test pape…